


Warm by your side

by frostysunflowers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Flirting, Halloween Costumes, Idiots in Love, James "Rhodey" Rhodes Needs a Hug, M/M, MIT Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: In the middle of a blackout on a rainy night, Tony gets a little creative.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 55





	Warm by your side

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet fic inspired by the prompts relaxation, candlelight and sweater weather from the rhodeytony seasons of love challenge on Tumblr.

"This is so stupid - "

"A little higher - "

"Can you hurry up - "

"I’m going as fast as I can!"

"Not fast enough! I’m freezing my ass off here."

"Give me more light - to the left, little more - "

"It shouldn’t be this difficult to look through a wardrobe - ''

"Well, honeybear, it wouldn’t be if you’d hold the stupid candle higher - "

"I swear to god - "

Tony curses loudly and the vague shape of his silhouette disappears out of Rhodey's sight for a moment, only for his face to reappear an inch in front of the candle in Rhodey’s hand, the only visible thing in the otherwise pitch black room. 

Rhodey jumps and lets out an aggravated sigh. "Seriously, Tones - "

Tony makes a shushing sound. "I’ve got a question for you."

"Do you now."

"A very serious question."

"...Okay?"

"You wanna be Han Solo or Princess Leia?"

Rhodey blinks. "What?"

"Sorry, my bad, _General_ Leia." Something green catches in the dim light as Tony holds it up briefly. "This is _Return of the Jedi_ era, so no cinnamon bun hair, though I guess we could mix it up a little if you really felt like it.’’

"Tony," Rhodey says, feeling his sanity rapidly starting to unravel, "what the hell are you talking about?"

In the candlelight, Tony’s eyes grow wide with faux innocence and his mouth morphs into a very sheepish grin. "So, you remember how it was my turn to do the laundry."

"Yeah…"

"Aaand you remember how you kept telling me all last week to get it done ‘cause you were running out of sweaters and had to wear that hideous pink one your Gram sent you last Christmas - "

"If you’re about to tell me we don’t have any clothes to wear - "

"In my defence!" Tony shouts, his breath rushing against the flame and causing it to flicker. "I _did_ put it all in to wash...an hour ago."

"Right before the blackout," Rhodey says, exasperation already clear in his voice. "So what you’re actually telling me is that all we have to wear tonight are the clothes we’re in now," he plucks at the rain soaked and pretty funky smelling gym shirt he’s wearing, "or the costumes we never wore for Halloween last year?"

"Hey, I wanted to wear them. Not my fault you went and got the flu." Tony flashes a cheeky grin. "We could always huddle together for warmth, share some blankets, turn up the body heat - "

"If you think you’re getting so much as a kiss from me tonight, you can keep on dreaming," Rhodey grumbles with a shiver. "Gimme a costume and help me find some more candles."

Ten minutes later, after much stumbling and crashing about, the apartment is bathed in the burnt orange glow of a handful of candles, all varying in sizes and all in danger of running out soon, and Rhodey is huddled on the couch beneath his comforter, glaring reproachfully at the black television screen. Outside, rain hammers on the windows hard enough to make them rattle, the whistle of the wind faint but strong.

Rhodey thinks of all his clothes, which isn’t that many because he’s never been one for owning more than what he needs, clumped together in a sodden mess in one of the crappy washers downstairs, trapped and useless until who knows when, and sighs forlornly. 

All he’d wanted was a quiet, relaxing evening with a pizza or some chinese food, watch a movie and fall asleep with Tony snoring on his chest if he could get the guy to sit still long enough. It was something he’d been looking forward to all week, the drag of each day bearable because he knew there would be a very good reward at the end. 

And now here he is, sat in the dark, shivering and fed up and dressed like Han Solo. 

''Hey, flyboy.''

Rhodey twists his head to look over at where Tony stands by the far end of the couch, illuminated by the candlelight with his arms folded and hip cocked, a playful smirk dancing amongst the shadowy image of his face. The forest green poncho he’s wearing is a little too big, baggy and loose all over, but it’s tucked in slightly to the belt holding up his slim grey trousers, the ones that would be declared indecent if he was to wear them out in public because of how ridiculously tight they are, and there’s a helmet sat at a jaunty angle on his damp curls. 

"I’m on the lookout for a scruffy looking nerf-herder, or perhaps a scoundrel, I’m not picky." Tony raises an eyebrow. "Know any?"

Rhodey glances down at his own outfit. It’s not as much of a statement as Tony’s, especially as he’d refused to wear the blaster holster or the leather boots in favour of his ratty slippers that have holes in the toes, but it’s still recognisable enough. Not that he’s in the mood for any of this on account of being tired and cold and extremely fed up. 

Tony seems to sense this and slides onto the couch. "I happen to like nice men too."

The eyebrow waggle that follows makes the helmet tip a little more sideways and Rhodey can’t help but laugh, some of the tension and frustration slipping away. Tony shuffles over so their thighs are pressing together, the grin on his face growing extremely smug. 

"Hard to resist, huh?"

"Oh, sure, who can resist a poncho. Sexiest things imaginable."

"It’s about who’s wearing the poncho, sourpatch. And I know I’m no Carrie Fisher but…" Tony waves a hand at himself and gives Rhodey an exaggerated wink. 

Rhodey feels the fight flicker out inside him; the irritation rippling into something far warmer. 

"Never been much into Carrie Fisher," he says, immediately earning a pout. "She’s cute and all, but Luke wears it better."

Tony blinks curiously. "Mark Hamill? Really?"

"He’s small and dorky like you, why not," Rhodey shrugs, grinning as he weaves a hand into Tony’s poncho and pulls him a little closer. "We can’t all fancy Harrison Ford, you know."

"Or Chewbacca."

"Weirdo," Rhodey snorts, pressing his lips to Tony’s just in time to cut off the start of a terrible Wookiee impression.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
